


And All These Stupid Little Things

by WhoknewZeus



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Drama, I suppose?, M/M, One-Shot, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Subtle Romance, Unrequited Love, amnesia-involved character (Chanyeol), angst near the end, happy endings because that is who I am, lot of unresolved problems, should I tag more in the future?, to some extent, waiting to be resolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 09:59:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11438499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoknewZeus/pseuds/WhoknewZeus
Summary: Park Chanyeol decided on half-assessed feelings that he would attend the same university as his crush, Do Kyungsoo, after high school.Even though, realistically, he probably wouldn't see Kyungsoo on campus very often or at all, he still took his chances to attend the school. It would come to become a realization to him that there was more to Kyungsoo than he previously thought.





	And All These Stupid Little Things

**Author's Note:**

> Couple beginning points that I want to make before y'all venture into this 15k Chansoo story
> 
> 1.) All grammatical mistakes are mine and mine alone. I reread through this a few hundred times to ensure that I got most of the revising part done decently. As long as the message is mainly clear, I don't mind it if it contains a typo or misused word here or there and whatnot.
> 
> 2.) I originally based the plot to be similar (if not exactly the same) as The Ugly Duckling and the Prince by Suzuki Tsuta. BUT, instead, I decided to use one concept prevalent in the plot of the story by S.T. before I branched off and added my own flavor to how I wanted my own story to come out to be. 
> 
> 3.) I want to thank everyone for choosing to read this story voluntarily.
> 
> 4.) SPOILER:  
> I actually don't mention in the story in detail about how the accident occurred to Chanyeol. I really thought that the scene was implied enough for people to get a basic idea of what happened and just let their creative mind conjure up a scene of what had happened. I'm a lazy writer for that, I apologize.

There was a guy that an ex-friend of Chanyeol used to talk about consistently. Do Kyungsoo. That was that guy’s name that his friend couldn’t stop saying from her little motormouth. The same girl that he coincidentally liked.

Clad in a standard black school uniform, Chanyeol used to sit down in high school during lunch period with this said friend and quietly watch the awaiting buds outside the window to bloom for the upcoming spring. Always dreaming of something in a distance until his crush-of-a-friend came.

His friend whined, day after day, to talk about how she wished the other so called ‘hoes’ would lay off of her Kyunnie, which disgusted him by the nickname she gave. He was a little frightened by her aggressive and unhealthy attitude, but it was all okay because he really did like her. Even if it was not love, it made him blind still.

In some weird way.

She was short, had the same light brown hair similar to the color of coffee he would like to drink at cafes every afternoon, usually when he had nothing else to do, and she generally was a happy girl when she wasn’t talking about her potential love life with somebody.

Ideally, he wished little by little that he would be her somebody, but the chance died before it could bloom beautifully. Every lunch period for the rest of January, February, and March was filled with her undying love for Kyungsoo. She would sit in her seat in front of Chanyeol as their column was directly next to the windows of the class. The very same windows Chanyeol used to help zone him out when he couldn’t handle her fangirling, but his ears always betrayed him.

It was supposed to be disheartening to hear her talk incessantly about someone she admired from afar, but it actually didn’t hurt Chanyeol in the slightest. Something was still beating inside of him in a way that was equivalent to a person in love.

He was so sure it was for his friend.

Little facts about Kyungsoo added to Chanyeol’s airy head at the time. It filled in the bubbles with a #2 pencil like on the scantrons he would receive during exams.

“Kyungsoo is a great cook!”

“Kyunnie knows how to act for plays.”

“Soo has the best grades in the whole school! Oh my, what do I do if I can’t get into the same college as him?”

“ ‘Yeol, help me get closer to Kyungsoo. I heard you guys are the same age. You just have to befriend him first, then you can introduce me to him, yeah?”

Kyungsoo this… Kyungsoo that… he could do this… he could do that… Shut up already. It was all Chanyeol wanted to say aloud. Though. He didn’t. He kept his mouth shut, zipped his lips like his PE jacket and listened carefully to every word that fell out of her desperate mouth.

Indirectly, Chanyeol felt like a stalker. He collected and retained information on Kyungsoo’s life without ever having to interact with him. It was wrong. It was wrong that he knew Kyungsoo’s birthday was on the 12th of January. It was wrong that he knew that his favorite thing to snack in the winter was freshly roasted sweet potatoes. Or that Kyungsoo’s parents allowed him to live by himself because they were too busy traveling for business. As much as Chanyeol wanted to forget all these trivia, he didn’t.

Why?

A small pool of regret and pity formed in his stomach. Maybe it was towards Kyungsoo since personal information about him seemed to fly around the school as if Kyungsoo was a pack of gum and everybody wanted a piece of him.

Chanyeol simply wanted to erase himself, similar in nature to the mistakes on the whiteboard that a student made to answer a question. Perhaps he wanted to forget that he existed. He was supposed to remain unassociated with Kyungsoo since the two were on two different extremes of high school hierarchy.

Two facets to never face each other.

As graduation was approaching, Chanyeol stopped liking the girl that he was supposed to be friends with. However, his heart never stopped pounding around her, so something changed in a short period of time. Everybody already revealed where they were going to college, and she was crying to herself in her seat in the classroom where he would normally hang out with her. She told Chanyeol, woeful as she sobbed aloud, that she didn’t make into the university that Kyungsoo was going to. In an effort to boost her spirits, she also bravely confessed to Kyungsoo in public, but she was politely rejected under the circumstances that they were not close enough to be in a relationship together.

Sickened by her desperation, tired of being battered with information about another male that he believed had no connection to their friendship in any way, Chanyeol straightforwardly, crudely even, told her: “Noona, we can no longer be friends. I’m going to the same university as Do Kyungsoo-ssi. Goodbye.”

It was uncalled for. He knew it in his petty and small heart that he didn’t have to add salt to her wound. However, they were really over as friends. Nothing he said was of importance to her in comparison to her obsession with a stranger that didn’t know she existed. He realized he was only a wall for her to vent her hidden desires and frustrations to, and he was frankly disturbed that he let his infatuation with her drive him to continue this friendship with her.

Freedom unlocking itself inside of Chanyeol as he walked out of the classroom, looking forward to a future without her in his life.

Then it fell apart as soon as it raised up, like dough in an oven.

He wasn’t associated with anyone else in his school besides his one friend, the same one that he just cut off from his life. There was quite literally nobody left to be friends with. It scared him. The thought of being alone entirely for once. Nobody to laugh at his lame jokes, or comfort him when rain clouds were over his head, or when he needed someone to go out to eat with.

Chanyeol was by himself. Solitude welcoming him home.

Oh well. He supposed it wasn’t all that bad; learning about others, calmly sitting in that classroom at lunch to hear her Kyungsoo-trivia, and sighing his happiness away. It was all well-spent. He could have done more for himself, possibly change a trait or two about himself to make people like him more, but he didn’t care enough about what other people meant to him. He only selfishly gave what he wanted to give and take as much as he needed as well. People like Chanyeol were common to find in public, anyway.

 

 

  
  
Graduation day had everyone cheering for their best friends, crying to their parents about going to universities that were located in a whole different country. It was all too sappy. Chanyeol watched how flowers flowed through the school. _Was someone shaking all the trees?_ There was an overabundance of petals now. As if someone drank all the Pepto Bismol in the world and threw it up all over the school in waves of pink.

Looking at the paper that verified that Chanyeol was no longer a high school student, indicating that he was indeed a free individual to choose his path for life, he saw in the distance of the mildly filled courtyard where Kyungsoo was walking towards the gate. In their private black uniform, it was a glorious day of memories and goodbyes, but Chanyeol was saying quietly saying hello to someone, hoping secretly for them to turn around to smile back.

However, life wasn’t a romance novel. It wasn’t something directed, played by capable actors, and teased the world with its trailer. Unscripted, raw, and spontaneous, that was what captured what _real_ life was. That was what Chanyeol was stuck with.

Chanyeol shrugged. Sighed. He looked upwards into the baby blue sky with splashes of white cotton candy clouds, staring into an unknown space and losing himself within that dimension.

* * *

Chanyeol brushed his maple brown hair in front of his bathroom mirror, contemplating when to dye his hair again or to let his natural roots to surface again. It was red. At one point. He had to get his hair bleached before he could get the brightest red possible because he was trying to grab the ex-friend’s attention. Long story short on that one—it didn’t work. Although, it did get was a few compliments from passing students in the hallway during lunch. A boost to his depleted confidence to balance things out.

The saddest thing about recklessly going to a random university because someone you like was also attending there was the dawning reality about differing class schedules. Chanyeol got up early in the morning and enjoyed doing things at the first ray of sunlight. He took classes from 7 am to 2 pm. Without breaks. It was crazy, and not something he recommended for the faint of heart, but he did it because it kept him occupied for a while. He would choose to use his afternoons as a means to take a small break and do homework on school campus before heading home for necessary sleep when night came.

He kept his scheduling as mundane as any other usual hardworking student would be. Or at least he would like to believe he was similar to the rest of the student body. Either way, he had no time to be frittering his idle hours for trivial things that didn’t relate to school, home, or free food.

He didn’t absolutely base his college choice to go to an unknown university because Kyungsoo -might- be there. Chanyeol would admit that became 50% of the reason, but he would like to blindly and stubbornly believe that he chose the University because it had a lot of courses related to music theory and education. As an unsure first-year, he was still choosing between one of two choices, but he might end up doubling or even choosing a completely different major throughout his years in university.

So yeah. It was a great school for him in the end. His efforts were not in vain. Chanyeol’s a happy camper for the most part.

The University was nearby home, so Chanyeol had no motive to make use of his driver’s license or to buy a car. Alternatively, he walked from his parent’s apartment to the bus station nearby. He plugged his red earbuds in and waited for the vehicle to come by to pick him up. Mouthing the English lyrics, “You’ll learn to love again. You’ll learn to love again~.”

First, Chanyeol judged nobody for choosing to live with their parents since it was considered cheaper to live with them than on one’s own. The tall young adult was lucky to have his parents working abroad half the time to be properly home, so he technically took care of the house himself. Learning to cook was a challenge, but he would consider himself to be a decent chef; doing the dishes all by himself, but he found it relaxing and stress-reducing; cleaning up his room by himself, but he preferred tidiness over messiness.

Chanyeol’s sister used to live with him, keeping him company roughly three days out of week, but she ended up moving out two years ago to experience real freedom. Chanyeol shrugged since it meant more alone time for himself. It would be lonely, though. His heart ached a little for his far away sister, but he also wished the best for her, thriving in an environment that she was meant to be in.

That was for sure.

Trips to school were fairly decent on the consumption of time, so, inevitably, commuting to and from school wasn’t a hassle either. However, Chanyeol walking to school was not recommended since he disliked working a heavy sweat and being somewhat late to class.

He was close to school, but he wasn’t _that_ close.

Thankfully, bus rides were usually quiet. A little shaky when the bus would run late since the driver wanted to get everyone to their destinations in a hurry. But it was generally not a problem. Muting the world around him, losing himself to the tracks on his sad romance playlist, he sometimes openly chose to listen to a pop song to cheer his mood.

 

 

  
  
During Chanyeol’s second semester, he was forced to change his classes’ time scheduling. It would have been the same timing if it weren’t the fact that one class he needed was only offered in the afternoon. So now he would have to attend classes from 7 am to 11 am, have a break in between, then finish the exhausting day from 1 pm to 3 pm.

The only thing bothersome about it was that his preferences were disorganized. Not that the world would end suddenly because Chanyeol didn’t get his way. All he wished for was a long consecutive break rather than a sporadic one. Why eat half a sandwich and save the rest later? Just eat the whole thing already. Don’t fight Chanyeol on this. You should get what analogy he was aiming for.

Moving forward, Chanyeol already forgot that he was supposedly attending the same school as Kyungsoo. Days rarely differentiated from one another. Without his ex-friend being by his side, the cursed name never was included within the boundaries of Chanyeol’s normal life. A lonely name lost on a crumpled paper inside of a trash can. It was supposed to stay that way, but the tall student would come back to the name and remember it daringly. Unfolding and straightening the crumpled edges, as if it held meaning for him, as if it was precious as gold and needed to be treasured, his lips, tongue, and voice called out this particular name with smooth ease. “Kyu-ng-soo,” Chanyeol practiced subconsciously, riding the bus home.

“ ‘xcuse me?” A fragile old woman seated next to him remarked.

“Oh, sorry, my bad,” Chanyeol quickly apologized. She accepted the words and returned to minding her business. Chanyeol embarrassingly crawled back into his head, begging the ground to be kind and open up for him to jump into. Why would he dare speak of a name that shouldn’t be said? Why now? Of all times?

Because it was peculiar. Because it was bewitching as if time stopped for him to figure out the history behind that name.

What piqued Chanyeol about Kyungsoo was how oddly familiar the other student seemed. Nobody was with Kyungsoo in elementary or middle school, but he suddenly raised to fame in high school for his decent physique and facial features and primarily known for his outstanding academic record. Not to mention his involvement in afterschool programs that added flavor to the student’s transcripts for colleges. Stripping away that basic knowledge of Do Kyungsoo, what about him was triggering Chanyeol’s sense of familiarity?

Was it his hair?

No. It couldn’t be. Black floppy hair was quite common.

His face?

Maybe. It was defined in its own uniqueness. Chanyeol recalled the many useless information from his ex-friend that Kyungsoo had, has, heart-shaped lips. Eyes so big that Chanyeol would probably feel like a specimen on a glass underneath a microscope if Kyungsoo stared at him long enough. Perhaps it was those features that brought forth the nostalgia? It could be.

Moths that were drawn to light. A dead phone looking to refill its battery by the closest outlet. This sentimental sensation towards Kyungsoo pulled, dragged, and forced Chanyeol to the other’s gravity like how an entranced fisher would wait by the shore for the line to sink for a catch. The more Chanyeol wanted to turn and swim away, the more he was reeled in. A chess game where all his pieces were conquered except the lonely king that stood tall. It was imminent for checkmate to occur sooner or later.

His stop came up. DING. He signaled the bus driver to stop for him using the yellow line above his head and pulling it. Chanyeol proceeded with his stuff and got off the bus without difficulty. Chanyeol sighed for a moment, finding it troublesome to walk the rest home, but he had a chocolate pudding with his name on it at home waiting for him to savor it. It motivated him to keep his feet moving.

He reached a crosswalk that was between him and his apartment building. Ready to plainly put his feet on the white paint, he hesitated until his body froze. His heart raised and burned all over his chest. A great shiver traveled down his spine, reviving him and letting time resume again. He took his feet back onto the sidewalk and looked haphazardly at the clear road in front of him. It happened again.

This sensation of fear and anxiety to cross the street. This engraved uneasiness that was trapped in his heart as it plagued his insides. Every time this occurred to him, Chanyeol vividly remembered being in the hospital with his worried-to-death parents. They said, well, the doctors specifically, that they did all they can do medically to help Chanyeol, but the psychological was a different thing. Chanyeol didn’t understand what it meant, but he also didn’t bring it up since it was supposed to be between the doctors and his parents at that time.

First, in order, Chanyeol had to breathe easy. Calm the nerves and remind himself that it was nothing to freak out over. It was going to be okay.Remind himself that this was okay, and there were no cars; the machine was still counting down for him to cross. Second and lastly, Chanyeol picked himself together and confidently pushed forward. He wasn’t scared of his past and not letting it drag him down forever.

* * *

 

A month into the second semester and things settled comfortably. Chanyeol adjusted himself to his new schedule and made use of the new break time. He would let the smaller break at noon be his ‘me-time’ to do something unrelated to school. It was logical to commit time for himself because Chanyeol was known for pushing himself to the absolute limit with his academic life. It was horrible, but he did it because society nailed the concept that a degree was going to guarantee him happiness, stability, and a job. Also, he was afraid that it would come true, too.

So, Chanyeol proposed he could act accordingly to his youth, be adventurous in his own way somehow. As long as he made use of that critical me-time, he would be content with life a little more.

Chanyeol finished his assignments early, liking the addition me-time he could collect. Shamelessly, he used it immediately to go home early and lay lazily on the couch to watch what was popular on TV.

Coincidentally, trash shows were his favorite since he didn’t need to use his brain all too much to understand what was going on. He could sit and laugh at what was funny, cry at what was sad, and be angry at something unfair. Simple enough.

His mom arrived home early in the afternoon, surprising him at first, greeting her a little late, “Ah, welcome home, Eomma.”

“Thank you. I am home,” his mother tiredly shook her heels at the door and went straight into the kitchen to put the various bags that were hooked on her hands onto the tabletop. “You hungry? I can make your favorite dish when you were still tiny.”

“No, I’m fine, Eomma. Thank you for asking,” Chanyeol politely responded, observing the actress onscreen as she cried real tears because one actor was leaving her and the relationship over her misactions. She blamed her bad childhood as an attempt to exempt her for misdeeds, to be given a chance at redemption, but who was she kidding with that poor excuse? Cheating was cheating. It was also a choice, never forced to. No such thing as a homewrecker if the someone opened the door for them.

Suddenly, Chanyeol wanted to reminisce about his own childhood, but it came up as mainly black images. Wait. There was something else there. No. Wait. More blackness and emptiness. Hmm. Okay. Chanyeol was sorry about that. He thought had something there, but it was a waste of time. An irrelevant sentence in a paragraph, waiting to be revised and crossed out. Hold up, he had his mom nearby, a reliable source of his childhood, and all he had to do was ask. “Eomma?”

“Yes?”

“What was I like during my childhood years?” Chanyeol escaped the comfort of the couch and stepped into the kitchen where his mom was boiling water. All Chanyeol was aware of about his childhood was that he was in a car accident that put him in the hospital, and he had amnesia for a short time. He easily remembered the important figures such as family, but his most of his childhood was voided, emptied out like the trash every Thursday morning. After recovering, Chanyeol’s family moved to the current house where they reside now. That was supposedly all to the story.

“Um, that’s a bit sudden,” his mom shyly answered, hesitant to let a word out really. Seeing how starry-eyed Chanyeol was, his mom remained conflicted between her conscience. “Let’s see, you were a blooming genius, curious about everything and wanted to know how things worked.”

It would make sense. Chanyeol could see himself as his mom described. The photographs of him when he was younger helped build an image of himself. Doctor did say that only time could tell when all his memories will come back, but there was no certainty that it would return at all. Although, he didn’t mind too much since everything important to him was present in his life. Or at least he hoped so.

Chanyeol’s mom continued her story, grabbing a green cutting board to prep the vegetables she brought, “Believe it or not, you liked going outside a lot. And very, very loud.”

“Really? I don’t seem like an outside or loud person nowadays.”

“People change, dear.”

“Huh, I guess,” Chanyeol couldn’t argue with her on that. Universal truths were hard to refute. If even at all. “Did I have any friends when I was younger? Back in that old neighborhood?”

“Yes, here and there, but you kept your relationships with them at school only,” his mom explained, intensely chopping carrots into multiple rectangles. She put them into the boiling soup that was being prepared the whole time.

“Oh, that sounds like me then. I would do that,” Chanyeol prided himself with the remark. Toothy smile present on his face as he tried to annoy his mom’s concentration. Although, her focus was an iron will. She would never place her knife down for a second, nor did her hands stop moving to do something. Dexterous, beautiful, and powerful: the most common traits embedded into his mom that he was proud of.

“Don’t you have homework? Please do something helpful rather than watch your poor eomma do all this work on her own.”

“Eh, I finished them early. I just wanted to talk. Thanks, Eomma! You’re the best, I love you,” Chanyeol dragged his feet across the flooring and made his way into his room to stop inconveniencing his mom. He was happy that his relationship with her was this close.

* * *

 

One day after his morning class unanimously decided to leave early at 9:15ish,  Chanyeol was stuck with more free time. He still had class in the afternoon, so it would be a waste of his time to go back home now. Instead, he went to the school’s cafeteria, which was a public place that he enjoyed avoiding because of the ruckus it harbored. Students flocking in and out like birds for winter, conversations that were of no importance or relevance to him whatsoever. It was a jungle for adolescents.

Chanyeol was only there because he forgot to bring lunch and skipped breakfast today. His hunger needed to be fed. It was natural.

Not wanting to spend an extravagant amount of money on food alone, he only bought cheap items such as American ham sandwiches and a mango-flavored energy drink. He sat on the table closest to the exit, ensuring that he had an openly easy route out.

The loneliness of sitting by himself didn’t bother him. He adjusted nicely to this feeling of solitude. As usual, the commotions that went on in the cafeteria remained the same. Loud chattering, obnoxious laughter, high-pitched ‘hey’ from across the room, judgmental eyes occasionally laying on him, the people were either minding their business or trying to get into others’ business. Sadly, there was no middle ground of the two choices.

Chanyeol sat directly facing the closed doors, peeking glances at who would come into the cafeteria with an interest similar to a cat. The tall-characterized man took pigeon peaks at his sandwich, slowly finishing the food he bought, yet he drank wholesomely at his energy drink. Sweet mango pouring into his throat and down further. The door opened and revealed a suddenly familiar face with black floppy hair. “Ah, Do Kyungsoo-ssi,” Chanyeol automatically told himself, but he failed to realize how audible his voice was in reality.

“C—you know my name?” Kyungsoo froze where he was. Eyes widened in terror as if Chanyeol told him that his mother died at this very moment. It perturbed Chanyeol at first, but Kyungsoo softened his look after remembering that he was in public.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! You were really popular back in high school. My friend used to talk about you. All. The. Time,” Chanyeol played off his foolishness, rambling, cursing his non-filter mouth in that moment earlier, hoping he didn’t sound stalkerish to someone he forgot he crushed on.

Chanyeol thought that the crush would have died down when he wasn’t interacting with Kyungsoo, but his theory was proven incorrect as he was nervously stuffing bigger bites into his face, praying that the bread, cheese, and ham of his sandwich could shut him and his heart up.

“No, no, no. It’s okay. I just didn’t think you would know my name out of all people,” Kyungsoo politely interjected. Chanyeol swallowed thickly at the chewed remnants of his sandwich. Kyungsoo’s smile was half-made, probably tired of holding its position for everyone to see for so long, but it seemed enough to make Chanyeol smile back with full-force. Kyungsoo pointed to the empty seat across Chanyeol, hoping to sit down and chatter more.

“O-of course! No one was sitting there in the first place,” Chanyeol chuckled shamelessly.

“Thank you,” Kyungsoo practically whispered his response, moving in place to where his finger pointed.

This was an odd turn of events. Chanyeol wasn’t supposed to ever encounter and actually associate himself with Kyungsoo, but it was happening. In contrast to his awkwardness, he liked how approachable the black-haired student seemed. Something lit itself inside of Kyungsoo’s eyes as he talked to Chanyeol, and Chanyeol himself saw this immediately as anything that came out of his mouth sounded like he discovered a cure for Alzheimer's to Kyungsoo.

However, Chanyeol felt guilty each time Kyungsoo wanted to say something about his interests because the taller man knew exactly what they were.

“I don’t act well.”

 _But you were able to get a recognizable award by the drama teacher for being the best actor in the whole school. No one could compete, apparently,_ Chanyeol retreated his smile upon realizing his creepy thoughts.

“I like cats.”

_I know. You used to own a really old one, but it ran away and you desperately were on the verge of tears asking the student body to help look out for it. You found it napping the next day in your neighbor’s backyard._

“I prefer to eat sweet potatoes.”

_I know this, too. In the winter season, specifically. I forgot a little about this detail, but something about you enjoying it in the cold more than any other weather because your family comes together for the new year._

“So what do you like to eat specifically?” Kyungsoo asked harmlessly, seeing that Chanyeol was awfully quiet while he stared into space. He hoped he wasn’t boring the taller man with all this weird personal information.

 _I like eating… oh wait, I should answer this aloud._ Chanyeol coughed and returned his gaze with Kyungsoo. “I like eating whatever. I’m not a picky eater nowadays.”

“Ah, let’s go out to eat together sometime,” Kyungsoo buttered up Chanyeol with his innocently cute and soft smile. No subtle dimples present on his face, not in the way that Chanyeol had one. Kyungsoo was too hopeful in his approach, probably expecting to open the other student about everything too soon.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol faintly let his voice die, unsure of how to continue the conversation with somebody he virtually knew more than the other party did about himself.

“Well, I’ll let you enjoy the rest of your break. Hopefully, maybe I’ll see you around?” Kyungsoo stood up, packing up his bags for class.

“Y-yes,” Chanyeol responded too late for his own comfort.

He really needed to be more attentive. First impressions were everything, most would say. He sat in his seat and stupidly ogled at Kyungsoo leave for too long. Once he realized how he was acting during the conversation with the shorter man, he regretted every ounce of his brain for remembering all this information about Kyungsoo as if it became second nature. “I’m a fucking stalker,” Chanyeol berated himself, exhaling his exasperation, putting his hand over his pounding chest.

* * *

 

It would go to say that Chanyeol was expecting to see Kyungsoo as soon as the next day. Although, the next day went on normally without Kyungsoo being seen or heard of. It would remain this way, this absence of Kyungsoo, a bird coming to perch on the feeder for a little then leaving without a trace. There were times where Chanyeol would catch Kyungsoo on school campus from far away, hanging out with people Chanyeol had never seen in his life, laughing with a hollow sound and smiling with empty eyes that lost interest in whatever they were talking about long ago.

But Chanyeol wasn’t brave. He didn’t have the self-confidence in himself to walk up and start a conversation with Kyungsoo. Let alone wave a hand gesture as a greeting. Because Chanyeol wasn’t brave nor reckless. Every time he went down to the market to get excess rice popped, he would flinch in fear of the sound.

How functional could he have been as a human being if he was perfect in that sense, brimming with profound confidence, ignoring the consequences of his actions because he was _that_ confident in himself. Pride overwhelming, maybe also making him cocky, to call Kyungsoo over, chat for a little, get his number, befriend him over time, get acquainted with each other, then have Kyungsoo fall for him in four different dimensions. Chanyeol’s imagination was going rabid.

Because, truthfully, Chanyeol wasn’t brave, wasn’t confident.

He had homework or some project to catch up on. Yeah, that was right. He should leave already while his mind was on the lowest level of his despondency.

 

 

 

 

Chanyeol was leaving school to go home after serving his time in his ~~prison~~ classes. He was exhausted of midterms, but he felt a sense of relieving fill his tried veins after finishing his last exam. Finally, a well-earned rest was needed and necessary for Chanyeol. Being frivolous with money wasn’t usually his thing, but today gloriously called for a night-out to treat himself for his hard work. Whether he did excellent or unsatisfactory on his midterms didn’t matter. He still tried his best.

He wished these were the times to have a few friends to go out with, but Chanyeol wasn’t going to bicker on being lonely. No. Instead, Chanyeol was going to eat at a restaurant, eat (hopefully) good food, and drink until he forgot all how many notes were in an octave. A challenge that he was ready to pour a shot glass to find out.

  
  


 

Who was Chanyeol kidding coming to an all-you-can-eat BBQ restaurant at 21:05 pm (9:05 pm)? He sat in a booth by himself in the corner of the front of shop. The wooden wall behind him trying to foreign authenticity. The see-through glass window to his right. The other available vacant booths to his left. Chanyeol looked hungry, lonely, and miserable by himself, ordering three different servings of meat to start his night, and a bottle of soju for his woes. “To me,” Chanyeol weakly cheered, pouring the transparent alcohol into his glass.

By the time Chanyeol realized how long he spent out, it was already close to midnight. Chanyeol would love to specify the exact measure of time, but he was deadbeat red in the cheeks while he firmly believed the octave contained two notes in total.

He was pretty drunk.

The bottles that took him to get this drunk?

Just two. It was all he needed.

He paid his bill, of course. No hassle. Polite waiters and workers. He tipped them more than he should have, but he didn’t care because he greatly enjoyed the smiles, fake or not, they presented. Clumsily walking out the door, he bumped harshly into somebody and was ready to fight. “Who da fuq? Watch wer yur goin’, ass-hole,” Chanyeol pressed his face a little too closely to a guy that was five inches below him.

“Ah, are you okay, Chanyeol-ssi?” The stranger with familiar black bangs uttered.

“Yee, I wuz ‘til you bumped into _me_ , biitcch,” Chanyeol slurred awfully, his wonk-eye giving away to his drunkenness.

“Uh, do you need help getting home?”

Who was this stranger? Why were they being so kind? Who gave them this right to be so polite? The nerve of this guy… “I will let you know, tat ii may buh lost, butt I tink we’re _all_ lost in this economy. Ha, jokes on you now, bud.”

Did Chanyeol ever mention he was drunk off his ass? Because he was. And this was not one of his proudest moments. If there were even many of those to talk about in his life.

“Uh huh,” the stranger replied, “Okay, Park Chanyeol-ssi, let’s get you home.”

“What’s yur name again?” Chanyeol inquired, smiling stupidly as the cold wind blowing through the part of the area he was in turned his cheeks bright red. Or was it the soju? Either or, honestly. Everything felt tipsy but good. Good like a two for one special on tacos on Tuesdays. Or like a saving the bees type of good. It was overall _good_. Nothing could possibly go wrong here.

“Do Kyungsoo.”

 _Oh, fuck_. Chanyeol thought sensibly, which was ironically uncanny. There was the punchline of his life. Somebody he opted to avoid on every waking occasion because his shamefulness held a gun to the right of his skull and warned to pull the trigger if he said a word to Do Kyungsoo. In every poetic, literal, metaphorical, moral, even political, way, Chanyeol found himself fucked without lube or preparation for life’s fastball in his face. “Oh,” was all the magic words the drunk man was able to say in the moment.

“So directions to your parent’s house?” Kyungsoo had to ask, prompting to let Chanyeol lean on his shoulders, which was gently refused.

“Y’kno? I wiszh I cun halp you, but—”

“But you’re deadbeat drunk. Right,” Kyungsoo reluctantly didn’t favor the conclusion. “Um, you have your phone, right? Can you unlock it?”

“Oh!” Chanyeol exclaimed a little too loud. He dipped his hands into his warm pockets and fished out the device to shakily hand it over to Kyungsoo.

Kyungsoo checked the phone and saw that it was dead. He really was being tested by a higher power somewhere. “It’s out of battery. Were you not paying attention to it?”

“Of course! I, uh, saw it stuppe-d werking, like, when was using it to take pictures, sooo I put it back-in-my-pocket and pulled it out again. Since I tout, wrungly mind you, that it would recharge itself by my _electrifying_ aura, or some spiritual shit like that.”

“Aigoo,” Kyungsoo sighed hard. Of all the drunk friends he had before Chanyeol, Chanyeol was the cherry on the top of a glass of vodka on the rocks. He looked into the starry night and hoped this wasn’t a cruel joke being played on him. Firstly laughing a little to himself, he took Chanyeol’s hands and led him a direction down a street somewhere. A few turns, cross a street there, it was a pleasantful walk to say the least. Kyungsoo hid underneath his hoodie as he held tightly onto Chanyeol’s hands. He would turn around, to check on him, of course, and he would catch the goofy smile and glassy eyes looking back at him with such intensity that his cheeks burned.

Somewhere down the line of their night together, Kyungsoo had to put earbuds on to shut up the incessant talking coming from Chanyeol. Not that he minded at first, but it had gotten a little _weird_. “You’re so pretty, Kyungsoo-ah. If you were a shot glass, I’d never put you down.”

All the flirting made him hot in his thick layers of clothing, but Kyungsoo had a selfless quest to complete. Besides, he didn’t mind listening to Dumb Dumb by Red Velvet really loudly. It made the night tolerable again. Muting himself from the one thing that Chanyeol said that made the most sense…

“Kyungsoo-ssi! Y’know… you were a suuuucch a cute kid next door to me _back_ then.”

 

  
  
Waking up to a nice smell on Chanyeol’s bed, he woke up and nuzzled his face comfortably into the pillow. Why did his pillow smell so nice? As he rose up, Chanyeol forgot to open his eyes, so he opened them and took a good look at his room… or maybe _not_ his room? Flabbergasted was not the beginning of his emotions that overwhelmed him, and not the headache also, but it was the anxiety of being somewhere new without recalling of _how_ he got there and _why_ he was there in the first place.

There were white sheets on the bed, which contrasted the typical blue ones he had in his own room, but this was certainly not his room. The curtains were freely flowing as the outside mid-season air permeated the unknown room. Were windows supposed to be open?

His lower half was not feeling ready to function properly. Chanyeol was calming his racing nerves with the thought that he was not in a dangerous space because his clothes were still on and seemed that all of his body was okay except for the booming aches around his skull.

So far, normal symptoms for a hangover.

It only left to whose room he was residing in?

The pastel blue door opened from across the bed, revealing, oh dear god, Kyungsoo peeking and smiling at the awoken Chanyeol. “I see you’re finally awake.”

“I am,” Chanyeol sheepishly responded, more than ashamed that he allowed himself to be this irresponsible after finishing midterms. No more nights out for a while.

“You sure knew how to party for somebody out with himself only,” Kyungsoo chuckled, prompting to sit on the edge of the bed next to Chanyeol.

“What can I say?” Chanyeol started but had no follow-up. What was there to actually say about it? God, what a fucking mess. “Actually, what _can_ I say about it? Please don’t tell me I did something I could regret. Wait, don’t. Just leave it be. I’ll let my memories come back to me.”

“Ha, I wonder when that’ll be,” Kyungsoo said sarcastically, but he placed his hand over his mouth and began to mumble, “I’m so sorry, Chanyeol-ssi. I-I, never mind. Sorry.”

There was no harm in that comment. “It’s okay! I should be saying sorry to you for forcing you to take care of me like this.” Shuffling around in the bed to get into a sitting position, he should have drunk moderately next time.

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo stopped to look at his toes, were they even important? “I would have helped you home, but you didn’t know the way back and your phone died.”

“Shit, that’s rough,” Chanyeol spoke informally, forgetting that he and Kyungsoo were not that close to each other to converse in that manner.

Kyungsoo laughed well at this. “You’re telling me!”

They shared a voluminous laugh together.

It wasn’t awkward as Chanyeol thought it was.

Laughing.

Laughing like this with Do Kyungsoo.

It almost felt normal as if they were together before. Something clicked too naturally for their interactions between each other for Chanyeol to accept right away. For a stupid moment in time, he forgot he liked Do Kyungsoo. Maybe as a friend or maybe more. He never knew what it meant to him truly, but Chanyeol could put an effort to find out more.

“I should get going. My eomma’s probably freaking out that I haven’t called home last night,” Chanyeol cautiously took his feet out from the bundle of blankets that entrapped it and let the cool room temperature greet his socked feet.

“Yes, yes. I charged your phone for you. We happen to have the same charger is all,” Kyungsoo mentioned, leading Chanyeol out of his room and into the living room.

“Thank you so much. You’re an angel sent from above,” Chanyeol groaned as he received his phone fully charged from the shorter man. If he wasn’t feeling guilty already before, the hole dug itself 200 feet deeper and encased it with wet cement.

When Chanyeol actually got home, he wished he could lie to himself that he didn’t ever want to see Kyungsoo as close as two miles near him, but it would be contrary to that very thought. He wanted, desired, yearned even to see Kyungsoo again. Whether it was purposeful or coincidental, Chanyeol took all his chances to see that short yellow peach-skinned man with uneven black bangs again. He would savor time as if it were served as a rare steak, and he would gobble anything that Kyungsoo would indiscriminately say. The kindness he’d shown to Chanyeol opened up a pandora’s box that Chanyeol was keeping loosely locked the whole time.

But self-doubt did a lot to person’s ego equally. It darkened what should be light, made rain clouds when the sky should be clear. It poured water on dry clothes hanging on the clothesline. It made everything shitty. It ate confidence left and right, and it would shit doubt and other insecurities. It created despair in its wake. That was where Chanyeol moped over his bland blue sheets and wished for a pure white one to come over him. No sexual innuendos intended. Lovesick or obsession? Wanting love or friendship? Where were the lines crossed, and how could Chanyeol decide on any of them?

“Fuck,”Chanyeol sighed, arguing endlessly in his head with himself. It was going to be a long day. If he was going to be screwed over with a splintered bat anyway, he might as well do something unspeakable for himself. He opened his phone and he searched for Do Kyungsoo in the Facebook app. Upon finding the distinguishable profile, he tapped the ‘add friend’ to request for a potential friendship. They didn’t exchange numbers, so it wasn’t too serious yet.

He wasn’t expecting an immediate reply or accepted friend request. Chanyeol wasn’t even thinking that he was worth Kyungsoo’s time, but he took his chance because he deserved to be kind to himself and try to be more open towards people. And then, he would take a nap beca… Kyungsoo accepted Chanyeol as a friend. The notification popped in front of his face before he was about to turn off his phone. It surprised him. “Fucking tampons, I can’t believe,” Chanyeol dumbfoundedly stared at the screen as if the notification stretched out of the virtual world and ate his soul. “Kyungsoo and I are friends!”

  
  
  


The next day for school went accordingly. He spent it learning and taking notes in class, focusing on homework on his free time, then studying after all of his classes were over, and tiredly riding the bus back home.

Chanyeol should have known that the ecstasy from his bravery was going to wear down and crash to shit later. He couldn’t blame himself there. Kyungsoo was tied to his own life to tend and care for. It was none of Chanyeol’s concern to be included in it, but he craved to be put as a chapter in the short man’s book of life. All in all, Chanyeol respected the distance and being Facebook friends meant nothing to being anywhere close on an interpersonal level.

And that was the hard truth. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol weren’t friends, but they were friendly towards each other. It didn’t exactly equate to being friends, though. Chanyeol miserably spent the next few weeks trying to forget that Kyungsoo existed in this plane of reality.

It worked. It worked. It worked, at first. Like a fly that didn’t stop pestering around his head, he couldn’t stop the annoyance. He could swipe and swing at the air blindly, but he couldn’t kill the damn thing. He could be fine one day or two, then Chanyeol could be back sighing at random window sills hoping for something to happen to him romantically. Building too much imagination, he needed his realism to maul it all down to pieces, shredding what hope he had in store.

It hurt to remind Chanyeol that he had to stop fantasizing about sappy romantic futures with somebody that he had no relative chance with. There needed to be intimacy between him and Kyungsoo for something to potentially grow between them, but it was precisely that was lacking in their interaction. The moment a person shows kindness to Chanyeol, was he always going to fall head-over-heels in love with them?

God, he was disappointing. In his emotions. In his thoughts. Most importantly, in himself.

The school semester was coming to an end soon. Three days exact. His first year of college would come to end, but he felt a beginning starting for Kyungsoo’s impact on his life. Indirectly, as their relationship should have been in the beginning, he hated Do Kyungsoo with closely all his heart. Even when his heart swelled with its own tears and drowned, even when the flowers in his lungs stopped air circulation, even when the electricity running through his nerves deliberately fried his systems… he had to somehow come to ~~love~~ hate Do Kyungsoo.

* * *

 

Second year of college politely started with Chanyeol adjusted to the university life. He made his mistakes in the past, but it was going to be different. Chanyeol knew what he needed to do. Not to mention the wonderful help the counselors provided him. Great job to the hardworking department there. Chanyeol had more confidence entering his second year as opposed his first.

As something to spice his life, he decided to take a hip-hop dance course this first semester. It could help regulate his laziness at home since summer break was filled with mimicking the life of a sloth. He may have also gotten lighter due to his minimal exposure to the sun, which he would like to congratulate the curtains in his room for keeping his room dark. He changed his sheets recently to silky white fabric to replace his blue. Not that it mattered to anyone besides Chanyeol.

A month and a half taught Chanyeol the freedom to express his dormant energy in body pops and rolls. He surprisingly picked up the dance moves thoroughly despite his awkward disposition. Chanyeol agreed to himself that taking the dance course was a brilliant investment. Now he had the right to say that he was able to dance better than an average person. Maybe he should eventually audition to be one of those k-pop idols that get advertised everywhere. Yeah, that would be a dream of many dreams to think about.

In that same time frame, Chanyeol caught himself talking to people more, befriending classmates and seldom getting called out to chill with them. Consumed in the change of pace, he was finishing dance practice in front of a live audience, usually other non-dance students that had too much free time on their hands. The blood still rushing through his body, Chanyeol raggedly took it easy on his breathing on the sidelines, taking a sip of his water bottle from his bag.

Something in the audience caught his eye, and he searched frantically for whatever interested him. Although, he shouldn’t have looked for the thing, or _person_ , because regret, guilt, and mild anger surrounded his palpitating heart.

Do Kyungsoo.

The guy he least expected to see at this particular dance studio at this specific time. Even then, Kyungsoo’s eyes never met Chanyeol’s, Chanyeol could tell that they weren’t watching him practice the new dance routine. They were set on Kyungsoo’s set of friends: Jongin, Baekhyun, and Sehun. Who all happened to be in Chanyeol’s dance class. Rotten luck.

Ignoring the lot and his indescribable jealousy, he grabbed his backpack and prepared to head to the door, hoping to get into a random campus bathroom to change into. Having to squeeze a little through the crowd, he made it safely through the studio door and head to the next building over to use the men’s bathroom there.

Upon inside, it reeked of uncleaned piss and a lingering fart. Nobody occupied the space besides Chanyeol, so it was good time to let out a disgruntled groan. Men, boys, males, whatever, were disgusting. Period. He questioned why half the male student body wanted to look clean and tidy until they reached the bathroom. It made no sense to Chanyeol. And why was Do Kyungsoo at practice? Freeze. Kyungsoo had the right to see his friends at any time he wanted as long as it was appropriate. Chanyeol had no right to be toxic about it. He shivered away the repugnant thoughts and went to a stall to quickly change his clothes, unaware of somebody entering to use the urinals.

Chanyeol exited his stall and smiled happily in the mirror above the sink presented in front of him. He looked to his left and noticed a small familiar figure trying to wash their hands. When Chanyeol took a good look, his eyes wanted to roll back into the deepest part of the back of his skull and remain there.

The person spoke politely, timid almost. “Park Chanyeol, hello.”

“Do Kyungsoo-ssi, hello,” Chanyeol supplied a smile for his front, though it was close to a frown than a smile. They stood still. Wishy-washy eye gazes accompanied by occasional held breaths. Among the ugly pastel blue tiles, sounds bounced too easily that the silence nurtured by their awkwardness made the situation unfavorable to converse in.

Until Kyungsoo applied more soap to his hands, looking down at his moisturized fingers with unwritten guilt, then looking up in the mirror in front of him to analyze Chanyeol’s body movements. He spoke again. “Y-your dance practice was nice. I-I saw it.”

Oh, Kyungsoo saw Chanyeol in the dance group despite the tall member being placed in the very back because of his height. The choreographer didn’t like that he blocked the center view of everybody shorter than him. He didn’t care, though. He understood where their concern came from. “Thank you very much. I didn’t think you were watching me over your friends.”

“Oh, they were good, too. But you surprisingly caught my eye. You put a lot of effort into the dance moves, so it looked entertaining to watch you instead,” Kyungsoo straightforward comment broke Chanyeol’s defenses, turning darkness to dandelions in the wind, flying pieces into fading gray skies.

“Thank you so much, I-I really don’t know what to say.”

“Just keep working on yourself. You have a lot of potential in a lot of things. Try singing or rapping sometime? Who knows? Maybe you’ll be an idol nowadays,” Kyungsoo lightly joked, laughing as he finished washing his hands.

After, Kyungsoo air dried them, the thunderous sound from the machine made it impossible to whisper something and be heard at the same time. But Kyungsoo was done talking; but he wasn’t done yearning at Chanyeol. Something stuck in his throat, ready to pounce out to Chanyeol, but Kyungsoo shut his agape mouth. He waved goodbye to Chanyeol and proceeded to leave the taller man in wonder.

A new silence engulfed Chanyeol. “Fuck,” he cursed. Why was Kyungsoo so nice? Why did he have to be so nice towards Chanyeol? The overwhelming friendliness took Chanyeol for a car ride, and he was frankly prone to motion sickness. “Fucking shit, ‘Yeol. Let’s be rational.”

  
  
  


Chanyeol returned home with more dark clouds being crammed into his head by the minute. His mom and dad were home together, watching the news for reports on the highway. “Oh, you’re back, welcome home,” first being greeted by his warm mother before his stoic father.

“Thank you. I am home, Eomma,” Chanyeol bowed in respects to his parents.

Satisfied by his response, his parents half-bowed their heads with their eyes closed. Then, they looked at each other lovingly and pecked at each other’s lips. They promptly giggled and cuddled in each other’s arms as usual, but something threw Chanyeol off. It brought too much memories into his head that he didn’t remember. His disturbed face perked the interest of his parents. Inevitably, his mom speaking up first, “Chanyeol, are you feeling okay?”

Chanyeol made his way to his room. Too slow for his normal pace. “Yes, I just had a mild headache. I’ll be in my room.

Not wanting to pester her son further, she allowed her child to his room as accordingly.

However, Chanyeol’s heart raised by the passing second, and it scared him. The familiarity of how his parents conversed and acted brought the memories of their old house, slightly similar to the one they live in now, but Chanyeol was way younger and innocent. An old conversation relayed in his head like a broken record player.

_“Eomma, why do you kiss Oppa?”_

_“Because I love him, Chanyeol.”_

_“And you kiss me because you love me, too?”_

_“Of course, Chanyeol!” Placing a kiss on his forehead for good measure to her words._

_“Soooo, you should kiss people if you love them?”_

_“Well, that would be preferred for most people.”_

_“What do you mean, Eomma?”_

_“Let’s just keep it simple for now, Chanyeol,” he could see his mother bending down to get on eye-level with puny child-Chanyeol. “Yes, you typically should kiss someone you love, like me or Oppa.”_

_“Okay, thank you very much, Eomma! I have to go now, I need to meet our neighbor.”_

_“Oh, you mean—”_

_“Yes!” He ran off before she could finish her sentence. Mini-Chanyeol had places to be and a particular best friend to see! His short legs carried him down his small neighborhood with great wind that the dandelions on the grassy patches he’d passed by were blown apart by his speed._

Where did this memory come from? Where was Chanyeol heading to? The rest of his childhood hit a black road block again. The new piece surrounding him with troublesome stress. It beat him to a pulp to know the ending, but it was a futile fight. Purposeless as the nipples on his chest. He had a bright idea to leave his room and come back to his parents side to possibly recreate the memory.

At first glance at his parents, he rushed the question, “Eomma, why do you kiss Oppa?”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

Well, that was a different response from what he expected. No matter. He had to keep striving forward. He repeated the question hoping for a more correct answer this time around, “Eomma, why do you kiss Oppa?”

“Well, okay, Chanyeol. You’re acting weird,” she chuckled at first, but she played along with his game, “but if you must know, it is because I love him, Chanyeol.”

“And you kiss me because you love me, too?” Chanyeol continued to follow the trail of breadcrumbs.

“Why, of course, I do! Are you feeling okay, honey?”

“Urgh, this isn’t working,” Chanyeol frustratedly ruffled his hair. He forgot his actions were seen in front of his parents. “I’m so sorry. Yeah, I’m just going to get some sleep. Night.” It was the end of their conversation while Chanyeol strided back to his room. It looked like he needed to keep the memory in reserve until more clues were thrown at him. The thing with Chanyeol was that he wasn’t supposed to have mysteries in his life besides the purpose of it, but that’s just a generalized feeling that everyone else had. There was something drilled deep in his head, but the darkness over it made it impossible to see how truly far down it went. A rabbit hole without Alice present, but it was still something worth exploring something soon.

There was somebody else in that memory that was important…

Chanyeol never had the courage to message Kyungsoo to see if they could begin ‘being’ friends, hands trembling, heart erratically beating, but his mind was rejecting the idea.

Kyungsoo was busy.

Chanyeol would like to prolong trying to send a harmless message because despite it seeming innocuous, it could end up being insidious in the end. Every precaution was for a reason. He firmly believed it. Or else he would have to admit that he was dramatizing the shit out of simple choices.

He sat in class with his head in his hands. The teacher’s never-ending spiel about why one music genre was greater than another, scribbling something squeaky on the whiteboard to the whole class. He usually wasn’t that bored in class, paying mostly attention to the lectures, but his mood couldn’t match his seriousness. His mind made a train track of the new mystery that descended upon his life suddenly. Something pushed Chanyeol to yearn, to solve the missing piece in his memories.

Naturally by his personality, Chanyeol believed in himself to be a logical person, committing to making choices that were socially and morally correct. This was not ‘some’ memory among a long list of other lost links. This was a piece to a giant puzzle, and it entertained him greatly to think that his life had something spicy for once. Besides, it was about Chanyeol’s past, a past that he couldn’t recall, and it would be joyful to remember what happened before the accident. Subconsciously he touched his scalp, feeling the many roots of hair that was softened by the special conditioner he bought for dyed-sensitive hair.

Class ended on a good note with Chanyeol barely catching to write down all the important reminders his professor splurted at the last second. He officially finished all his classes for the day, so he imminently had more downtime for himself. Clearly a clever and productive student, Chanyeol confined himself in the university’s library and began self-study to help strive for a better understanding of the material he learned in classes.

He first took a long two-person table for himself and his pile of books that were worth more than the price of food he spent in two months. The library had two levels to its beautiful infrastructure, and Chanyeol took the liberty of taking the upstairs level because he preferred the view of the school and its ant-like students running around through the window. It sort of felt like an ant farm at some point.

People come and go quickly, not choosing to stay longer than an hour. Heavy footsteps, light footsteps, unwanted snores from behind the bookshelves, the librarian doing rounds to make sure the books were in its proper places. Chanyeol was indulging in a small necessary break from studying, peeking at the variety of students whose lives brought a lot of fascinations and quirky stories in his head.

A sprinkle of water landed on the glass he was staring at. It was a warning before the sprinkle became a shower, and Chanyeol lamented that the one day he didn’t check the weather for rain would be this very day. And he didn’t even have an umbrella prepared! Oh, fucking shit.

Once at the front entrance of the sliding doors of the library, Chanyeol doubted that he would make it anywhere dry fast enough to not be drenched in the rain. He preferred to have his clothes not sticking to him like glue, but it seemed to be unavoidable like fate, which had an interesting timing whenever Chanyeol was not expecting it.

“Park Chanyeol-ssi?” Kyungsoo appeared suddenly behind him, piqued by why Chanyeol was standing in the way of the entrance for so long.

“Hello,” Chanyeol lazily bowed his body, not having the shitty luck that he was receiving.

Kyungsoo analyzed Chanyeol’s nervous actions and seldom glances at the rain outside to figure out the predicament. “You don’t have an umbrella with you?” Although Kyungsoo’s intuition was correct, he waited for Chanyeol to sheepishly admit the truth.

“Yes.”

“Let’s share mine then,” Kyungsoo immediately offered, not hearing the complaints and excuses that were delivered to him, and he took Chanyeol’s hand carelessly within his own. Kyungsoo fished for his umbrella in his backpack since it was large and spacious enough for two or three people.

Chanyeol couldn’t fight the smile on his face that sprang up like an ambrosia in bloom. Purposely but not disclosing it, he allowed himself to be dragged out into the freezing weather underneath Kyungsoo’s black umbrella.

Was it a good time to mention that Chanyeol didn’t want to remember that he had a bad case of sweating hands? Because it was starting up and he was afraid that Kyungsoo would be disgusted by the natural bodily function. To the taller man’s genuine surprise, Kyungsoo kept his mouth shut and bravely attempted to keep his clutch over Chanyeol’s hand despite the grip still being loose and damp.

Maybe the rain was helping him hide his sweaty hands…

  
  
  


It was a mistake. A pure, honest-to-god, mistake. Seated at a table waiting for their baked goods to be freshly served. It was a mistake to order a couple’s bread special to get the cheaper deal. It was a mistake that flushed his ears when he thought about it more. They’re not a fucking couple, so what the hell were they doing?

Everything about their meeting was a mistake made on an important exam that Chanyeol couldn’t erase all the way through. A dirtied smud—

“Chanyeol?” Kyungsoo’s voice reminded Chanyeol that he wasn’t alone.

“Ah, yes?”

“Nothing,” Kyungsoo shut himself down before he could say it audibly. His smile seemed true to his intentions, but his eyes were deep in anguish, lost in between the light of truth shadowed by secrecy.

“Fine, I won’t pry on it,” Chanyeol shrugged the notion away. The dim lighting of yellow all across the store. The only thing considered ‘luminous’ was the light coming from the shelves that showcased all the perfectly modeled cake rolls, ordinary cakes, pies, and other sweet treats that could melt one’s jaws.

Out of the awkward blue, similar to how Kyungsoo was as a person to Chanyeol, the shorter man popped the question, “What do you _know_ about me, Chanyeol-ssi?” Hand on his chin, eyes on Chanyeol, other hand on the table to rest.

It was a question that held many intricate webs, and it was something that Chanyeol shouldn’t speak out about to avoid seeming like a stalker. He retorted, waving a nervous hand through the air, “You went to the same school as me in high school.”

“You can stop there,” Kyungsoo articulated his distress, obviously unsatisfied with the answer, but he continued to play detective: asking questions, getting answers, but never being the one to answer any questions given to him.

Why did he look so disappointed? Was he expecting more from Chanyeol?

“Okay?” Chanyeol closed his fidgeting hands together, but he vibrated his legs in exchange. As a half-assed and half-scared attempt to keep picking the ice between them, he remarked lightly with a chuckle, “It’s funny. Coming to this restaurant to have a couple’s special plate with a friend. Maybe I’ll tell my mom about this later.”

Kyungsoo let out a stale laugh, too fake for the stoic student’s liking, “Yeah… maybe I should go here with a real lover next time.” The comment came out too bitter, as if it had a bunch of sliced limes and lemon and squeezed it down Kyungsoo’s throat. It carried too much hurt and exhaustion that he was unable to thoroughly express.

“Yeah, maybe I should, too. If I ever get one,” Chanyeol obliviously ignored the tension. The wrong choice to make, coincidentally. It wouldn’t be interesting if someone didn’t mess up, but it was a matter of time of whom would be the first to fall apart in front of the other first. A race.

The usually stoic student sighed, confusing Chanyeol a little of his actions. With closed eyelids, the furrow of his brows, there was something bothering Kyungsoo. Upon opening himself to his reality again, his glassy eyes warned Chanyeol of future waterworks, but he inhibited it all to say something locked in his head. “I would be here with someone special, but… _he’s_ dead now.”

“...”

“A part of him kept alive but lost in my mind,” paused, breathing thickened air between them, “say, Chanyeol-ssi, do you think I would have the courage to ever return him those precious memories?”

Straightforwardly, insensitive to whether what he wanted to say was filtered correctly or not, Chanyeol retorted, “How can you return memories to a deadman?”

Kyungsoo laughed seriously, still too stiff of a sound for Chanyeol to indulge and reciprocate. The obnoxious fits that came from Kyungsoo echoed inside of the partially emptied bakery-café. Gibberish syllables bounced back and forth onto the crappy brown walls and directly into Chanyeol’s barely functioning head. The large ears of the taller man cringed once it made its point that there was a hidden joke that he was unable to comprehend.

“You wait for him today, at the library, gathering up your courage like breadcrumbs, that is until you reach him, and you drop all the pieces on the dirty floor,” Kyungsoo started, eyes of unkempt anger while screws loosened inside of Kyungsoo’s container of emotions, holding down Chanyeol’s utter attention by his low voice, “So you’re a mess now, but it rains, which is _fucking_ perfect. And when you want to leave and go home already, you find _him_ by the entrance of the library looking into the distance. Clearly without an umbrella available. So, you play nice and offer yours to share, and you think sometime in the downpour that you can spill your feelings to him, but you still can’t. Because you’re fucking scared of so many things.”

Chanyeol sat flabbergasted in his seat, unsure of what to feel besides the heavy mixture of regret, untold sorrow, and melancholy pooling his stomach acids together. He listened carefully but felt that the story was directly told to him as a giant ‘fuck you’.

Kyungsoo’s usual demeanor crumbled like a sandcastle. A palace he thought he would feel safe in was nothing but a prison to isolate him from the hurtful reality. He rubbed his shaky fingers through his buzzed sides to his scalp, scrunching the thousand of lines of black hair beneath his hands, “You pretend, Chanyeol. You pretend. Pretend. Pretend. Pretend that you’re fine. You smile. Fake it, act it out, and maybe you can master it to the point where you don’t remember when you actually smiled at someone.”

Concerned of where this story was leading, seeing the tangents getting a little confusing, Chanyeol wanted to check up on Kyungsoo. “Kyungsoo-ssi? Are you okay—”

“—then you remember when. It was _him_. The guy you sit across…” Kyungsoo’s tears fall like fine china on marble flooring, croaking like a lost frog under the strongest downpour, too tired for this bullshit to be happening, “…across the table from at some random dessert place while you… you two order a couple’s special plate to save fucking money.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol could only—wait. Why was there tears trickling his own face? Why was this affecting him as if he was breaking up with somebody that he didn’t believe to have a chance with? Why did his heart ached and twisted and breathed one last breath before it felt like it died on the spot?

“Funny. What the hell am I doing? I’m so sorry, Park Chan-yeol hyung,” Kyungsoo averted his eyes, wiping his snot and wet cheeks with his dry sleeves. “I-I have to go. I’ll just,” scrambling to get his wallet out, “fuck,” pulling out an amount that could pay for the whole order and have change leftover, “just… goodbye. I’ll see you around, or not, or something. Goodnight, Chanyeol-ssi.” Kyungsoo finally left his seat and hurried out of the shop without hearing out anything the taller man had to say.

“Here’s your order, sir,” the waiter came by to deliver the giant cream puffs that Chanyeol was supposed to share with Kyungsoo. “I’m so sorry, sir. We heard everything.”

 _Ah, how pleasantly unpleasant_ , Chanyeol thought. “Can I just pay for this and let you workers eat this for me? I don’t feel like eating suddenly.”

“Of course,” the waiter took the money that Chanyeol gave, which was Kyungsoo’s money, and waited for the change.

Before leaving the shop, he saw that Kyungsoo left behind the umbrella in his seat, and Chanyeol thought that it was a cruel day for him. “Aish."

* * *

 

It stuck with Chanyeol like an iron ball attached to a chain that was shackled onto his ankles. He dragged it across different environments, leaving a trail behind of his presence. “What happened?” Chanyeol asked him as he laid in his bed with the blinds and curtains closed.

Four days passed. In those four days, Chanyeol failed to see Kyungsoo at school or in public. The tall man even skipped his usual routine of self-study to find the shorter raven-haired man on campus. Although it proved to be fruitless, he held onto the umbrella securely in his hand and was devoted to finding Kyungsoo eventually.

Four days became sixteen days, then sixteen to thirty-two. It took exactly thirty-two days before Kyungsoo reappeared in his life, like a magician at a kid’s birthday party. Chanyeol was finishing up his business at the urinal and washing his hands before Kyungsoo exited out of the stall with huge bags under his eyes and a tired redness closing in on his iris as if it were bloodied hands reaching for the sky.

“Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol called, cast a forbidden spell that silenced the owner of the name he pronounced, and he lifted his hand, fingers tempting to touch but never getting granted access, and dropped it all at once and shook his head frustratedly. “I can’t believe you.”

“Tell me about it,” Kyungsoo reluctantly desired to speak to the person that killed his heart thirty-two days ago. He wandered back into the stall and locked himself in, only hoping that the everlasting time between him and Chanyeol could speeden up and turn them to dust. But reality wasn’t kind that way.

Chanyeol bumped his forehead lightly against the doorframe, using his large fingers to lightly touch tiny black knob as if he was scared of breaking the handle. “Kyungsoo, talk to me. I don’t care if it’s in public or private. Just… talk to me, please.”

“Chanyeol-ssi.”

He sounded like he was crying again. Chanyeol had no idea what could give Kyungsoo so much grief and pain that it physically affected how he lived. Chanyeol figured that it was perhaps directly or entirely his own fault.

“Do you really not remember me?”

“No,” said Chanyeol, blankly staring at his shoe-covered toes, seeing that Kyungsoo’s own toes were facing towards him, probably doing the same exact pose from the other side of the door.

“Chanyeol-ssi,” a sob came through before it reached the ending suffix, “are you really sure you want to hear my side of the story?”

“Yes, more than anything.”

“Okay.”

“...”

“You and I are childhood best friends,” Kyungsoo started, rubbing his swollen eyes like bags of sand that he used near the shore of the beach to ward off the waves from destroying his sandcastle heart. “I was your neighbor. I was there… when you had your accident.”

“What?” Chanyeol backed away, smiling to himself because his face couldn’t understand what he was truly feeling. Body and mind were not one. Heart shaken by the information, bad memories of screaming, tires screeching, metal cracking human bones began to come back to him like a nightmare. The sunshine still fading in and out of his vision before. Clouds passing by, laughing at him that horrid day of tragedy. The faintness of someone crying out his name.

Although, it all still was a blur to him.

“Whether it was entirely my fault or a partial part of it, it still _was_ my fault that you got into that accident,” Kyungsoo briefly explained, controlling his sniffling but not his tears, “your parents despised me afterward,” voice cracked, “they thought I was bad omen and wanted you to grow up without me by your side, “ sighed deeply, unaware of how to finish this conversation faster, “and I don’t blame them.”

Chanyeol wanted to remember who Kyungsoo was. He tried his hardest, wishing that wishes were true, wishing for him to remember who Do Kyungsoo really was to him. Instead, the next best thing he could do was lower his eyes, despondent, conflicted of what light to bask in, and he gravitated back to the frame of the cursed door that kept him away from Kyungsoo.

“It’s okay if you hate me, because I hate me, too,” Kyungsoo’s toes stepped away from the light of the bathroom and back into the shadow of the stall door. The locked-in fellow sat on top of the toilet with his feet off the ground, an abyss waiting for him if he dared to dip his big toe on the tiles again.

Awful bathroom lighting flickered, like a ghost passed by and left because this was not worth haunting. Maybe there were people outside the door, ear to the the hollow frame, chiming in on their conversation like bats. Perhaps it would explain why no one came in to interrupt their melodramatic crisis, but the scene already happened and couldn’t go back to replay the good part. So, there was silence.

Still Silence. Then, there was soft sounds hidden behind their tension, untamed sobs and snot that ran down noses; buzzing lights and squeaky sneakers on the piss-wet, germ-infested floor. Chanyeol stepped into the cubicle next to Kyungsoo’s stall and sat inside with the door locked as well. If things were going to go downhill, he might as well be with a friend when it happens. “Hey, Kyungsoo,” Chanyeol murmured, no honorifics this time because their relationship together was unclear as muddy water; looking down at the base of the toilet that Kyungsoo was at, knowing that the man was still there, gushing out layers of emotions that buoyed each other to the brim until it flooded.

“Y-e-es?”

“Tell me what I was like when I was with you,” Chanyeol audibly talked, heeding not to his surroundings, but only to Kyungsoo, the magician that held secrets that Chanyeol wanted to learn for his own gimmicks. “Tell me who _Park Chanyeol_ was to you.”

“Oh.”

Kyungsoo must have been amused by the statement, Chanyeol was sure of it. He could see the other in his head picking at the widened, swollen eyes as he spoke.

“Well, you were brave. Something about being in the front of all the action and attention drawn you in subconsciously,” Kyungsoo picked at the laces on his shoes, undoing them and retying them, seeking comfort in the simple activity, “you were funny… you made me laugh so much that I seriously thought that _that_ was how I was going to go out in life.”

 _I’m not funny, though._ Chanyeol anxiously bounced his left leg, disturbing the toilet water.

“You also loved me,” Kyungsoo bit down on his truth, hoping too much that the other would understand them.

“As a friend?”

“No.”

“Then…”

“Yes,” Kyungsoo laid it thickly. Glue slaughtered over a paper and closing all the folds together. He knotted the shoelace in a pretty bow before untying it all over again because it wasn’t perfect. “One day, you came over and asked me if I loved you, and not as a friend, but something like how your mom loved your dad, and I responded ‘yes’ because we were kids that knew nothing about the emotion of love. But you kissed me, straight on the lips, more like a peck, and you told me something absurd.”

“Ha,” Chanyeol dryly chuckled, the description of himself too… implausible to be considered? “What could I possibly say?”

“In your exact words, because my memory isn’t shit,” Chanyeol winced, “you said, ‘Eomma told me that we kiss the people we love. And I love you, Do Kyungsoo!’ ” Mimicking a high-pitched voice that pertained more to a dying peacock than a human one. But it made Chanyeol laugh, nonetheless.

“Insane!” Chanyeol almost fell over to the floor -ultimately glad that he didn’t- because he was laughing sincerely. He would never have thought that someone as shy and reserved as himself was this fun-filled person that Kyungsoo was describing.

“Tell me about it,” Kyungsoo shared a same shaky but playful breath, “want to know what I said back?”

“Sure.”

“ ‘Are we going to get married then? Like your eomma and appa,’ ” Kyungsoo’s cheeks were cherries and his ears were strawberries. Everything happening between them, between these bathroom stalls was too fruity for him to withstand. “God, I was fucking embarrassing as a kid, but you were too. So, I guess it evens out?”

“Heh, I guess. Did I say yes to that question back then?”

“You did.”

“God, I’m getting secondhand embarrassment hearing this.”

“Hey, Chanyeol-sshi?” Kyungsoo’s voice bounced around.

“Yes?”

“No, never mind, it’s weird to ask, I—”

“Just say it already.” Chanyeol rolled his eyes and wanted to give the shorter man a bonk on the head if he could.

“Can you hold my hand from down here?” A waving hand appeared from the opening at the bottom of the wall that separated Chanyeol’s stall from Kyungsoo’s. “It makes me feel like everything is going to be okay if I’m holding on to someone’s hand.”

Speechless, Chanyeol bent down and offered his hand, feeling the smooth slip of Kyungsoo’s fingers interlock with his own. This wasn’t something anyone should be doing in a public bathroom, but it felt like the universe stopped and gave them a secret place in time to be themselves and sort the crumpled lines between them.

“Thank you,” Kyungsoo bobbed his thumb upon Chanyeol’s tanned skin, playing with something that was once within his reach; now, filling himself with heavy nostalgia as it was once again by his touch. “Let’s talk more outside, yeah?”

“Please do,” Chanyeol pegged with his sweaty hand inside of Kyungsoo’s palm. 

* * *

 

Chanyeol never could recall his forgotten memories, and he didn’t feel guilty over what was lost because he found that it was easier to forgive himself and let his mind naturally come together. With Kyungsoo opening up about the shared past between them, Chanyeol understood little by little, meticulous step after another, that he was still the Park Chanyeol that Kyungsoo knew.

Even if he was a little different this time in comparison.

But Chanyeol was still being Chanyeol. No one could be more Park Chanyeol than Park Chanyeol himself.

As Kyungsoo would put it, “I couldn’t hate you, knowing you couldn’t remember me, when I saw you again in high school. Even after the pain I put myself through, the guilt, the depression, I still couldn’t find it in myself to hate you.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the best example that Chanyeol could find, but he sought something in those woven words that carried many lines of untold stories that he had yet been introduced to.

Kyungsoo revealed that he knew that Chanyeol wouldn’t remember him because Chanyeol’s parents talked to him at the hospital post-accident. “They told me that it, your accident and amnesia, was a sign from God that ‘He’ spared me from your life and should be grateful. That I should also never come into contact with you again because I’m considered a bad omen to you,” said Kyungsoo, gesturing with his hands with nonchalance of the past.

Of course, Chanyeol did everything in his power to convince Kyungsoo that he was sorry, but Kyungsoo wasn’t taking any apologies from him. Kyungsoo explained, “You did nothing wrong. You’re okay. Parents… they say those type of things that hurt others when their child’s at stake. They love you so much."

Although the weight inside of Chanyeol wasn’t lifted, he honored the effort and bobbed his head, as if he understood what it all meant. A signal told Chanyeol inside his head that the weight inside of Kyungsoo was still heavy as a ton of gold.

Surely, but not quickly, Chanyeol picked one stack of gold off of Kyungsoo at a time. In hopes of finding a reason, the core of why Kyungsoo allowed himself to be buried underneath everything for so long without calling out for help. He wanted to help Kyungsoo, if Kyungsoo would allow him, to become a better person, to realize that laughter shouldn’t be hollow or that smiles shouldn’t be faked all the time.

* * *

 

Through the harshness of natural weather, Chanyeol entered his third year of college as a happy-go-lucky individual. Having Kyungsoo by his side regularly only fortified his uplifting personality.

No matter how much Kyungsoo wanted to fight his own words from spilling from his heart-shaped lips, he would never confront Chanyeol that his old personality was overlapping with the new. Even if the two frames were different, over the course of cruel, inescapable time, the difference would fade away until it recollected all the dust into one. In some sense, Kyungsoo saw Chanyeol reviving something that was dead long ago.

A secret was a secret, though. It only took another person to know about Kyungsoo’s true thoughts for it to no longer be perceived as a secret.

On an alternative note, Chanyeol had to keep his mouth shut around his parents about Kyungsoo because they probably would overreact and create unnecessary turmoil amongst everyone. Horrible couldn’t begin to describe the predicament if Chanyeol was caught, like fingers caught in the cookie jar when he clearly was restricted to eat from it.

Expectedly, life could be kind, wonderful, magical, and the pinnacle of human experience, but it was also the antithesis of itself. It was supposed to be a day of casual fun with Kyungsoo to the mall, but who would have thought that Chanyeol’s parents were _also_ there trying to buy something for Chanyeol as a surprise?

Naturally, his parents were infuriated that something they considered repugnant to their palettes was before them. The idea that Kyungsoo was around _their_ child without consent was awe-struckening. Chanyeol was told to be locked up in his room while Kyungsoo remained in the living room to be interrogated by the strictness of Chanyeol’s eomma and appa.

Life could’ve been a romantic sitcom, but it decided that it wouldn’t be complete without the necessary pain of drama.

“Let me ask this straightforwardly while my patience is still thin and not gone yet,” Appa was feigning his polite mannerism to mask the roaring fire inside of him. The thick quiet in the house only made it audible for all the rooms to hear especially for the room that Chanyeol was locked in. “What are you doing around Chanyeol?” asked Appa.

Kyungsoo hesitated, afraid that his words of ice weren't enough to mitigate the heat that radiated off of Appa. Being brave for once, he still said them anyway, “Chanyeol-ssi still doesn’t remember me from before, but he’s willing to still be friends with me on his own accord.”

Chanyeol was touched. The corners of his lips reaching up, forming a valid smile.

_I want to remember you… you’re important to me, Kyungsoo-ssi._

“Impossible, God spared you from being in my son’s life!” Eomma raised her voice, something she was never prone to doing, but Chanyeol, ears pressed against his door, listened with an antsy uneasiness that defined how critical the development was out there. “Why? Why couldn’t you just stay away?”

Sighing was shared around, a little comical to Chanyeol that could only hear what was truly going on outside his room. It was like being a kid all over again, checking the closet door for monsters and hearing footsteps on the hallway on Christmas thinking that it was Santa. Everything about Kyungsoo confronting, or being confronted, made Chanyeol feel small again. “Hold on, Soo-yah,” Chanyeol’s fingers slid down the corners of the door as it reached the cold floor.

Kyungsoo’s voice hitched but was able to project his confidence, “I did. I didn’t question your motives, your concerns around your son, or my own parents scolding me endlessly about what happened to Chanyeol,” a pause was fabricated, Chanyeol thought it was probably Kyungsoo catching his breath, “but I endured it all. I buried everything six feet and an inch deep into the floor and promised to never look back again.”

“Well, you didn’t do a damn good job at it,” remarked Appa, angry but not enraged anymore. The bitterness was still there, though.

Regardless, Kyungsoo thrived to push his story out, “I’m so sorry still. About everything. But I did my best to avoid Chanyeol. I almost forgot who he was until I reached high school and saw his face again,” a shuddered response from Chanyeol upon hearing the sincerity of those meaningful words, “but tell me, Mr. and Mrs. Park, what am I supposed to do when the person I thought I buried, that I thought was dead, came back up from the ground and began living again? Unfair, isn’t it?”

A choked sob came from Kyungsoo, or was it from Eomma, but either way, Chanyeol knew someone out there was crying trying to keep it together. Coincidentally, Chanyeol realized through his own personal feelings that his aching heart wasn’t only for himself, but it was also for that black-haired individual that was fighting to stay as friends and to attempt to clean up the chaos of their past together, truly regretting to be unable to comprehend the agonizing truth and pain that Kyungsoo was enveloped in.

In Chanyeol’s most honest, honey-filled words, his lips spoke, “I forgive you for everything you did to my past, Kyungsoo.”

A point in Chanyeol’s endeavor of hearing the conversation going on in the living room from his own room, he began to wonder what the old Chanyeol would say or do in this type of occasion. He felt lost, directionally challenged at which morally right choice he could make with every fleeting moment.

“You should leave,” Eomma stated, breaking the silence that was shared in the house. “Just leave already. Please…”

“Mrs. Park,” Kyungsoo weakly fought back.

“Go!” Both parents were raising the red flag at Kyungsoo, warning of something horrible to happen if he stayed any longer when he wasn’t welcomed in the first place.

Chanyeol wasn’t thinking. He swore on his unsteady heart that he was true to his word. Carelessly, a little too roughly, yanked the door, ran out with long strides like a horse, and he caught his parents halfway pushing Kyungsoo to the door before stopping to look at Chanyeol bafflingly.

“Chan—”

“No!” Chanyeol interrupted his parents before making his way to Kyungsoo and embracing the short student protectively. Backing away from his parents’ yearning touch, he shook his head in disagreement, dragging Kyungsoo, who began to bawl into Chanyeol’s chest after being strong in front of Eomma and Appa. “You don’t get to use my name when it’s convenient. I love you, Eomma, Appa, but how _dare_ you do this to Kyungsoo?”

Eomma couldn’t think of a surefire answer, and Appa was trying to think of something to counteract the question. It led to nothing. It led to shame, regret, and immaturity. They wanted to protect their son from danger, something that they firmly believed Kyungsoo to be, but they swallowed down that belief like cough syrup and shut up. They were Chanyeol’s parents, so they questioned why were they on the opposite side of where Chanyeol was. They were supposed to be supporting him, protecting him, loving him, but their actions right now was not showing any of those traits…  Appa sighed but Eomma sucked in her breath before wryly looking at Chanyeol.

“I-is this really what you want?” Eomma quietly, weakly said, aware of the bleakness between her and Chanyeol, her own son; someone she was supposed to be ultimately close with. She bobbed her head as she walked away from the hugging duo because their actions and silence was all she needed as an answer. “I’m going to need some time, but I trust that my own son can make responsible decisions.”

Appa followed Eomma out to the couch and resumed to watching a random show on TV. They didn’t care if they liked it or not. Background noise was needed to fill the dissipating tension. Kyungsoo whispered that he probably should get going, so Chanyeol walked him out, but before the shorter student could get a step out the front door, Eomma yelled out, “Kyungsoo! I’m sorry for what I did. Please come back again to let me properly apologize when I get my pettiness straightened out.”

Kyungsoo smiled. He looked forward to the future that was no longer dark or empty.

* * *

 

Chanyeol never could promise to anyone that he was supposed to remember -aka Kyungsoo- that his memories was going to come back one day. It was appropriate to hope that there was going to be a day for it to all come back to him like butterflies in the spring, but it was only poetic words on a screen until it could actually true. It never bothered him that he was different from the Chanyeol Kyungsoo remembered, even if Kyungsoo reminded him on a day-to-day basis that ‘the only Chanyeol that’ll matter to you is the Chanyeol you are _now_ ’ and it still moved Chanyeol endlessly with its genuine portrayal of love and wisdom.

But, there was still a glimmer of despair inside of Chanyeol as he wondered what those memories truly meant to Kyungsoo. It was different to be told in second-person from Kyungsoo’s perspective about what it was like back then. It wasn’t as simple as trash TV where he knew which emotion he should feel and act out. Childhood memories that Kyungsoo reminded Chanyeol of was only invoking a numb sensation.

Life still proved to not be a shithole to Chanyeol, though.

In under a month since the confrontation with his parents towards Kyungsoo, they made the sincere effort to accept Kyungsoo with open arms, apologize grandly that what they said and did was unforgivable, but Kyungsoo still forgave them for all that was done.

In the grand scheme of things, a traumatic event didn’t always define or take a huge part of a person away. Chanyeol learned that he shouldn’t be holding the past so tightly against himself in the present to the point that he was never going to look forward to the future. No. He worked on himself to slowly pry his fingers off and let go of what was bothering him internally. Of course, the event was always going to be there behind him, waiting for him to turn around, and Chanyeol will glance for a split moment to say hello, but he had goals for himself that need him to keep his eyes on the road ahead of him.

This was the part where Chanyeol confessed that he was happy, because he truly was. Maybe the skinny love between him and Kyungsoo was beginning again; since Chanyeol couldn’t recall when the first happened. Although, it did little to deter his willingness to hold Kyungsoo’s hands through the cold winter as they shared a couple’s scarf together.

Even though Chanyeol still hesitated to cross the street from time to time, Kyungsoo was fortunately empathetic about the action and calmed him down to properly show him that there was nothing to fear. Sometimes, Kyungsoo would purposely let go of Chanyeol’s hand, continuing to walk alongside his tall best friend, because he knew that Chanyeol wasn’t scared when his smile was brighter than the rows of lampposts that they passed by. It was going to be okay.

“Chanyeol-ssi?”

“Yes?”

“I’m glad you exist in my life.”

“Me too…”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so messy. A scammer. A bitch that lives for drama. I, in my utmost sincerity, apologize that I am like this. Idk why this fic came out this long. BUT OH WELL. Leave kudos, comments, questions, and whatnot. I love you all. Thank you so much for reading this plot hell. I will see y'all next time.


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